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LOPEZ AXE WEiMYSS’ 

EDITION. 


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cr THE 

ACTING AMERICxVN THEATRE. ^ 


*g=a<eaTOT58B;5EaZ3E% »WAV ^ U ^ 

THE COMEDY OF 


MUCH AHO ABOUT NOTHING, 

WITH A POHTRAIT OF 

MISS KZ^'J^LY, 

IN THE CHARACTER OF 

BEATRICE. 




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The Plays carefully corrected from the Prompt books of the 
PHILADELPHIA THEATRE. 

Ey M. Lopez, Prompter. 

PUBLISHED BY A. R. POOLE, CHESNUT STREET, 

FOR THE PROPRIETORS. 

' And to be had of all the principal booksellers in the 

UmTED STATES. 


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Price to non-subscribers, Fifty cents. 


b^i^‘=7l !3!=lisi=3 iJ=^i=ai=ll ^ i=qUrii=ite|isni=ai;^ 


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PUOPOSM.S. 










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In presenting' to the Public the first Number of the x\ cl- 
ing American Theatre, the proprietors feel a pleasure in 
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The want of a work, in Avhich would be combined the ex- 
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Clerk of the Eastern Distnetof Fennsylvania, 


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AOTiira auseaxcait TESATas. ^ 






ADO ABOUT XOTHIXG. 


WITH A PORTRAIT OF 


MISS KELLY, 

IN THE CHARACTER OF 


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The Plays carefully corrected from the Prompt books of the 
PHILADELPHIA THEATRE, 


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By Lopez, Prompter. 


PUBLISHED BTA. R. POOLE, CHESJVUT STREET. 


FOR THE PROPRIETORS, 

And to be had of all the principal booksellers in the U. S, 
The Copy Rig'ht secured according* to Law, 




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, Pl'^- 









J. R. M. Bicktng, Printbb, — 1836. 


Persona Plepreservted. 


Don Pedro 

Leonato 

Don John 

Claudio 

Benedick 

Balthazar 

Antonio 

Borachio 

Conrade 

Dogberry 

Verges 

Friar 

Sexton 

Seacoal 

Oatcake 

Hero 

Beatrice 

JVCargaret 

Ursula 


1 ^ 26 . 

Philadelphia. 

% 

Mr. Wemyss. 
Mr. Warren, 
Mr. Webb. 

Mr. Fielding. 
Mr. Wood. 

Mr. Collins. 

Mr. W^heatly. 
Mr. Darley. 
Mr.J Jefferson 
Mr. Jefferson. 
Mr. Mestayer. 
Mr. Hathwell, 
Mr. BignalU 
Mr. Murray, 
Mr. Meer. 

Mrs. Anderson J 
Miss Kelly. 

Mrs. Jefferson. 
Mrs. Meer. 


i^tage Directions. 


By R. H. is meant Right Hand. 

1, H. - Left Hand. 

s. E. Second Entrance. 

Tj. E. Upper Entrance. 

M. D. Middle Door. 

D. Door in Flat. 

B. H. D. - - - - Right Hand Door. 

t, H. p, Left Hand Door. 


Time of Representation , — Two hours and forty 

minutes. 


MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 



ACT. I. 

SCENE I . — Before Leonato’s House. 

% 

Enter Leonato, reading a letter^ Hero, Beatrice, 

a;Z(^BALTHAZAR,yrowL. H. u. E. through gates in 

centre, 

Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Ar- 
ragon comes this night to Messina. 

Balth. He is very near by this ; he was not three 
leagues off when I left him. 

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this 
action ? 

Balth. But few of any sort and none of name. 

Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever 
brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don 
Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Flo- 
rentine, called Claudio. 

Balth. Much deserved on his part, and equally 
remember’d by Don Pedro : He hath borne himself 
beyond the proniise of his age ; doing, in the figure 
of a lamb, the feats of a lion. 

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be 
very much glad of it. 

Balth. I have already delivered him letters, and 
there appears much joy in him ; even so much, that 
joy could not show itself modest enough, without a 
badge of bitterness. 

a2 


MUCH ADO 




Leon, Did he. break out into. tears? 

Balth, In great measure. 

Leon, A kind overflow of kindness : There are 
no faces truer than those that are so washed. 

Beat, T pray you, is signibr Mbntanto returned 
from the wars, 

Balth, I know none of that name, lady ; there was 
none such in the army of any sort. 

Leon, What is he that you ask for, niece? 

Hero, My cousin means signior Benedick of Pa- 
dua. 

Balth, O, he is returned ; and as pleasant as ever 
he was. 

Beat, I pray you, how many hath he killed and 
eaten in these wars ? But how many hath he killed ? 
for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing. 

Balth, He hath done good service, lady, in these 
wars. 

Beat, You had musty victual, and he hath holp to* 
eat it : he is a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an 
excellent stomach. 

Balth, And a good soldier too, lady. 

Beat, And a good soldier to a lady;— But what 
is he to a lord ? 

Leon, You must not, sir, mistake my niece : there 
is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick and 
her: they never meet, but there is a skirmish of wit. 
between them. 

Beat, Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last 
conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and 
now is the whole man governed with one: so that if 
he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him 
bear it for a difference between himself and his horse; 
for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known 
a reasonable creature. — Who is his companion now? 
He hath every month a new sworn brother. . 

Balth, Is it possible ? 

Beat, Very easily possible : he wears his faith but' 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


Ks the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the 
next block. 

Balth, I see, lady, the gentleman is not. in your 
books. 

Beat. No : an he were, I would burn my study. 
But, I pray you, who is his companion ? 

Balth. He is most in the company of the right 
noble Claudio. 

Beat. O Lord ! he will hang upon him like a dis- 
ease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and 
the taker runs presently mad. Heaven help the 
noble Claudio ! if he have caught the Benedick, it 
%vill cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. 

Leon. You will never run mad, niece. 

Beat. No, not till a hot January, f Flonnsh of 
'Trumpets r. h.J 

Balth. Don Pedro is approach’d. { Exit., l. h.) 

Enter Don Pedro, D ON John, Claudio, Bene- 
dick. R. H. 

Pedro. Good signior Leonato, you are come to 
meet your trouble : the fashion of the world is to 
avoid cost, and you encounter it. 

Leon. Never came trouble to my. house in the 
likeness of your Grace: for trouble being gone, com- 
fort should remain ; but, when you depart from me^ 
sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. 

Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. — = 
I think, this is your daughter. 

Leon. Her mother hath many times told me so. 

Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you ask’d her. 

Leon. Signior Benedick^no ; for then were you a 
child. 

Pedro. You have it full. Benedick : we may guess 
by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady 
fathers herself : — Be happy, lady ! for you are like 
an honourable father. 

Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she would 


8 


MUCH ADO 


not have his head on her shoulders, for all Messina, 
as like him as she is. C All retire up hut Benedick, 
and Beatrice. J 

Beat, I wonder, that you will still be talking, sig- 
nior Benedick ; no body marks you. 

Bene, What, my dear lady Disdain ! are you yet 
living ? 

Beat, Is it possible, disdain should die, while she 
hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick? 
Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come 
in her presence. 

Bene, Then is courtesy a turn-coat, ('Benedick, 
Beatrice, ineet at centre,) But it is certain, I 
am loved of all ladies, only you excepted ; and I 
would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard 
heart; for, truly, I love none. 

Beat, A dear happiness to women ; they would 
else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I 
thank Heaven, and my cold blood, I am of your hu- 
mour for that ; I had rather hear my dog bark at a 
crow, than a man swear he loves me. 

Bene, Heaven keep your ladyship still in that 
mind ! so some gentleman or other shall ’scape a 
predestinate scratched face. 

Beat, Scratching could not make it worse, an 
’twere such a face as yours. 

Bene, Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 

Beat, A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast 
of yours. 

Bene, I would, my horse had the speed of your 
tongue ; and so good a continuer : But keep your 
way o’ Heaven’s name ; I have done. 

Beat, You always end with a jade’s trick; I know 
you of old. 

Pedro, ( All advancing to Benedick, r. h. 

Beatrice, l. h.) This is the sum of all, Leonato, — 
signior Claudio, and signior Benedick, — my dear 
friend Leonato, hath invited you all. I tell him, we 
shall stay here at the least a month ; and he heartily 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


d 


prays, some occasion may detain us longer : I dare' 
swear he is no hypocrite, but prays from his heart. 

Leon. If you swear, my lord, you shall not be 
forsworn. — Let me bid you welcome, my lord : be- 
ing reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe you 
all duty. (To John.) 

John. I thank you: I am not of many words, but 
I thank you. 

Leon. Please it your Grace lead on ? 

Pedro. Your hand,, Leonato ; we will go together. 

( Exeunty all but Bene, and Claud, thro' g-ate.J 

Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daughter of 
sign i or Leonato ? , 

Bene. I noted her not ; but I looked on her. 

Claud, Is she not a modest young lady ? 

Bene, Do you question me, as an honest man 
should do, for my simple true judgment ? or would 
you have me speak after my custom, as being a pro**- 
fessed tyrant to their sex ? 

Claud, No, I pray thee, speak in sober judgment. 

Bene, Why, i’ faith, methinks she is too low for 
a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too 
little for a great praise : only this commendation I 
can afford her ; that were she other than she is, she 
were unhandsome ; and being no other but as she is, 
I do not like her. 

Claud, Thou thinkest, I am in sport ; I pray thee 
tell me truly how thou likest her. 

Bene, Would you buy her, that you inquire after 
her? 

Claud, Can the world buy such a jewel ? 

Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But, speak 
you this with a sad brow ? or do you play the flout- 
ing Jack ? Come, in what key shall a man take you? 

Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest lady that 
ever I looked on. 

Bene, I can see yet without spectacles, and I see 
no such matter : there’s her cousin, an’ she were 


10 


MUCH ADO 


riot possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in 
beauty, as the first of May doth the last of Decem- 
ber. But, I hope, you have no intent to turn hus- 
band ; have you ? 

Claud, I would scarce trust myself, though I had 
sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 

Bene, Is it come to this, i’faith ? Hath not the 
world one man, but he will wear his cap with sus- 
picion ? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore 
again ? Go to, i’faith ; an thou wilt needs thrust 
thy neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh 
away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is returned to 
seek you. 

Enter Don Pedro, thro^ gate. 

Pedro, What secret hath held you here, that you 
followed not to Lconato’s 

Bene, I would your Grace would constrain me to 
tell. 

Pedro, I charge thee on thy allegiance.' 

Bene. You hear. Count Claudio: 1 can be secret 
as a dumb man, I would have you think so ; but on 
my allegiance : — mark you this, on my allegiance : 
—He is in love. With who ? — now that is your 
Grace’s part.— Mark, how short his answer is ; — 
With Hero, Leoriato’s short daughter. 

Claud, If this were so, so were it uttered. 

Bene, Like the old tale, my lord : it is not so, 
nor ’twas not so ; but, indeed. Heaven forbid -it 
should be so. 

. Claud, If my passion change not shortly. Heaven 
forbid it should be otherwise. 

Pedro. Amen, if you love her ; for the lady is ' 
very well worthy. 

Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord, 

Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. 

Claud, And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


11 


Bene, And, by my two faiths and troths, my lord, 
I spoke mine. 

Claud, That I love her I feel. 

Pedro, That she is worthy, I know. 

Bene, That I neither feel how she should be loved, 
nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion 
that fire cannot melt out of me ; I will die in it at 
the stake. 

Pedro, Thou wast ever an obstinate heretic in the 
despite of beauty. 

Claud, And never could maintain his part, but in 
the force of his will. 

Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank her ; 
that she brought me up, I likewise give her most 
humble thanks : but that I will have a recheat wind- 
ed in my forehead, all women shall pardon m^ : Be- 
cause I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, 
I will do myself the right to trust none ; and the 
fine is, (for the which I may go the finer,) I will 
live a bachelor. 

Pedro. I shall see thee, e’er I die, look pale with 
love. 

Bene, With anger, with sickness, or with hunger, 
my lord ; not with love ; prove that ever I lose 
more blood with love, than I will get again with 
drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker’s 
pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house, 
for the sign of blind Cupid. 

Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from this faith, 
thou wilt prove a notable argument. 

Bene. If 1 do, hang me in a bottle, like a cat, and 
shoot at me. 

Pedro, Well, as time shall try : 

In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke, 

Benc.^Th^ savage bull may ; but if ever the sen- 
sible Benedick bear it, pluck off the bull’s horns and 
set them in my forehead : and let me. be vilely paint- 
ed ; and in such great letters as they write, ‘‘ Here 


iJ 


MUCH ADQ 


is good horse to hire^"^ let them signify under my sign 
— Here you may see Benedick^ the married man^"^ 

f Crosses to r, h.) 

Pedro* Nay, if Cupid have not spent all his qui- 
ver in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. 

Bene, 1 look for an earthquake too then. 

C Crosses to centre*) 

Pedro* Well, you will temporise with the hours. 
In the mean time, good signior Benedick, repair to 
Leonato’s ; commend me to him, and- tell him, I 
will not fail him at supper ; for, indeed, he hath 
made great preparation. 

Bene, I have almost matter enough in me for 
such an embassage ; and so I commit you— 

Claud* To the tuition of Heaven: From my 
house* (if I had it) — 

Pedro* The sixth of July : Your loving friend, 
Benedick. 

Bene* Nay, mock not, mock not : The body of 
your discourse is sometimes guarded with* frag- 
ments, and the guards are but slightly basted on 
neither : ere you flout old ends any further, examino 
your conscience ; and so I leave you. 

( Exit,, Bene, thro'^ 

Claud. My liege, ynur highness now may do me 
•good. 

Pedro* My love is thine to teach; teach it but how^ 
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn 
Any hard lesson that may do thee good. 

Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord ? 

Pedro. No child but Hero, she’s his only heir : 
Dost thou affect her, Claudio \ 

Claud. O my lord, 

When you went onward on this ended action, 
i look’d upon her with a soldier’s eye, 

That lik’d, but had a rougher task in hand 
Than to drive liking to the name of love : 

But now I am return’d, and that war-thoughts 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


o 


Have left their places vacant, In their rooms 
Come thronging, soft and delicate desires, 

All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 

Saying, I lik’d her ere I went to wars. 

Pedro, Thou wilt be like a lover presently, 

And tire the hearer with a book of words : 

If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it ; 

And I will break with her. Was’t not to this end, 
That thou began’st to twist so fine a story ? 

Claud, How sweetly do you minister to love, 
That know love’s grief by his complexion ! 

But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 

I would have salv’d it with a longer treatise. 

Pedro, What need the bridge much broader than 
the flood 1 

Look, what will serve, is lit : ’tis once, thou lov’st ; 
And I will fit thee with the remedy. 

I know, we shall have revelling to-night ; 

I will assume thy part in some disguise, 

And tell fair Hero I am Claudio ; 

And in her bosom I’ll unclasp my heart, 

And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
And strong encounter of my amorous tale ; 

Then, after, to her father will I break ; 

And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine : 

In practise let us put it presently. 

( Exeunt thro'' gate,J 

SCENE II . — A Hall in Leonato’s House, 

Enter Don John and Conrade, r. h. 

Con. What the goujere, my lord! why are you 
thus out of measure sad ? 

John, There is no measure in the occasion 
that breeds it, therefore the sadness is without 
limit. 


B 


14 


MUCH ADO 


Con, You should hear reason. 

John, And when I have heard it, what bless- 
ing bringeth it ? 

Con, If not a present remedy, yet a patient suffer- 
ance. 

John, I cannot hide what I am : I must be sad 
when I have cause, and smile at no man’s jests ; eat 
when I have stomach, and wait for no man’s lei- 
sure ; sleep when I am drowsy, and tend to no 
man’s business ; laugh when I am merry, and claw 
no man in his humour. 

Con, Where it is impossible you should take 
true root, but by the fair weather that you make 
yourself; it is needful that you frame the season for 
your own harvest. 

John, I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than 
a rose in his grace ; and it better fits my blood to 
be disdain’d of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob 
love from any : in this, though I cannot be said to 
be a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but 
I am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a 
muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I 
have decreed not to sing in my cage : If I had my 
mouth, I would bite ; if I had my liberty, I would 
do my liking ; in the mean time, let me be that I 
am, and seek not to alter me. 

Con, Can you make use of your discontent? 

John, I make all use of it, for I use it only. 
Who comes here ! What news, Borachio ? 

Enter Borachio, l. h. 

Bora, I came yonder from a great supper ; the 
prince, your brother, is royally entertain’d by Leo- 
nato ; and I can give you intelligence of an intended 
marriage. 

John, Will it serve for any model to build mis- 
chief on ? What is he for a fool, that betroths him- 
self to unquietness? 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


15 


Bora. Marry, it is your brother’s right hand. 

John. Who? the most exquisite Claudio ? 

Bora. Even he. 

John. A proper squire ! And who, and who ? 
which way looks he ? 

Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of 
Leonato. 

John. A very forward March-chick ! How came 
you to this ? Come, come, let us thither ; this may 
prove food to my displeasure : that young start-up 
hath all the glory of my overthrow ; if I can cross 
him any way, I bless myself every way: You are 
both sure, and will assist me ? 

Con. To the death, my lord. 

John. Let us to the great supper ; their cheer is 
the greater, that I am subdued : ’Would the cook 
were of my mind ! ( Exeunt^ L. ii.J 


END or ACT I. 


16 


MUCH ADO 


ACT II. 

SCENE I. — A Room in Leonato’s House. 

\ 

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, l. h., 

Leon. Was not count John here at supper ? 

Hero. I saw him not. 

Beat.. How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never 
can see him, but I am heart-burn’d an hour after. 

Hero. He is of a very inelancholy disposition. 

Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made 
just in the mid-way between him and Benedick : the 
one is too like an image^and says nothing ; and the 
other, too like my lady’s eldest son, evermore tat- 
tling. 

Leon. Then half signior Benedick^s tongue in 
count John’s mouth, and half count John’s melan- 
choly in signior Benedick’s face, — 

Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, 
and money enough in his purse, such a man would 
win any woman in the world, — if he could get her 
good will. 

Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get 
thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of thy tongue. 

Beat. For the which blessing, I am at Heaven 
upon my knees every morning and evening : Lord^ I 
could not endure a husband with a beard on his 
face ! I had rather lie in woollen. 

Leo7i. You may light upon a husband, that hath 
no beard. 

Beat. What should I do with him? dress him in my 
apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman ? 
He that hath a beard, is more than a youth ; and he 
that hath no beard, is less than a man : and he that 
is more than a youth, is not for me ; and he that is 
. less than a man, I am not for him : Therefore I will 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


17 


even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-herd^ and 
lead his apes into hell. 

Leon» C Advancing^) Well daughter, {to Hero) 
I trust, you will be ruled by your father. 

Beat, Yes, faith ; it is my cousin’s duty to make 
courtesy, and say. Father^ as it please you, ( Crosses 
to R. H.) But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a 
handsome fellow, or else make another courtesy, and 
say, Father as it please me, 

Leon, Well, niece, I hope to see you one day 
fitted with a husband. 

Beat, Not till Heaven make men of some other 
metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to 
be overmaster’d with a piece of valiant dust ? to 
make an account of her life to a clod of wayward 
marie ? No, uncle. I’ll none : Adam’s sons are my 
brethren ; and truly, I hold it a sin to match in my 
kindred. 

Leon, Uaughter, remember what I told you: if 
the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know 
your answer. 

Beat, The fault will be in the music, cousin, if 
you be not woo’d in good time ; if the prince be too 
important, tell him there is a measure in every thing, 
and so dance out the answer. For hear me. Hero; 
wooing, wedding and^repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a 
measure, and a cinque-pace : the first suit is hot and 
hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical ; the 
wedding, mannerly-modest, as a measure full of 
state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, 
and with his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace 
faster and faster, till he sink into his grave. 

Leon, Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. 

Beat, I have a good eye, uncle ; I can see a church 
by day-light. ( Music^ r. h. u. e.^ 

Leon, The revellers are entering. 

( Music,^ R. H. U. E.J 

b 2 


is 


MUCH ADO 


Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Baltha- 
zar, Don John, Borachio, Conrade, Mar- 
garet, Ursula, and others^ masEd^ throi^ arch. 

Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your 
friend ? 

Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and 
say nothing, I am yours for the walk'; and, espe- 
cially when I walk away. 

Pedro. With me in your company ? 

Hero. I may so, when I please. 

Pedro. And when please you to say so ? 

Hero. When I like your favour y for Heaven de- 
fend, the lute should be like the case ! 

Pedro. My visor is Philemon’s roof ; within the 
house is Jove. 

Hero. Why then, your visor should be thatch’d. 

Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. 

( Pedro and Hero retire^ r. h.J 

A DANCE. 

c 

f After the danccy Enter Benedick Beatrice, 

l. H. u. E.- laughing .) 

Beat. Will you not tell me who told you so ? 

Bene. No, you shall pardon me. 

Beat. Nor will you not tell me who you are ? 

Bene. Not now. 

Beat. That I was disdainful — and that I had my 
good wit out of the Hundred merry Tales ; — Well 
this was'signior Benedick that said so.. 

Bene. What ’s he ? 

Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough. 

Bene. Not I, believe me. 

Beat. Did he never make you laugh ? 

Bene. I pray you, wha,t is he ? 

Beat. Why, he is the prince’s jester ; a very dull 


ABOUT NO I KING. 


19 


fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible slan- 
ders ; none but libertines delight in him ; and the 
commendation is not in his wit, but in his villainy ; 
for he both pleaseth men, and angers them, and then 
they laugh at him, and beat him ; I am sure he is in 
the fleet : I would he had boarded me. 

Bene, When I know the Gentleman, I’ll tell him 
what you say. 

Beat, Do, do : he’ll but break a comparison or 
two on me ; which, peradventure, not mark’d, or 
not laugh’d at, strikes him into melancholy ; and 
then, there’s a partridge’ wing saved, for the fool 
will eat no supper that night. C The Company be- 
ginning to leave the room.) We must^ follow the 
leaders. ( Music,^ Exit all but Don John, Borachio, 
and Claudio.J 

John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and 
hath withdrawn her father to break with him about 
it: The ladies follow her, and but one visor remains. 

Bora, And that is Claudio : I know him by his 
hearing. 

John, Are not you signior Benedick ? 

Claud, You know me well; I am he. 

John, Signior, you are very near my brother in his 
love : he is enamoured on Hero ; I pray you dis- 
suade him from her,- she is no equal for his birth : 
you may do the part of an honest man in it. 

Claud. How know you he loves her ? 

John, I heard him swear his afl'ection. 

Bora. So did I too ; and he swore he would marry 
her to-night. 

John. Come let us to the banquet • 

P Exeunt Don John cm^/BoRA, l. ii.j 

Claud, Thus answer I in name of Benedick. 

But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio.'—- 
’Tis certain so ; — the prince woos for himself. 
Friendship is constant in- all other things. 

Save in the office and affairs of love t 


20 


MUCH ADO 


Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues 
Let every eye negotiate for itself, 

And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch. 

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 
This is an accident of hourly proof, 

Which 1 mistrusted not : Farewel therefore, Hero ! 

Enter Benedick, l. h. 

Bene. Count Claudio ? , , ^ 

Claud. Yea, the same. . ^ 

Bene. Come, will you go with me ? 

Claud. Whither ? 

Bene. Even to the next willow”, about your own 
business, count. What fashion will you wear the 
garland of? About your neck, like an usurer’s 
chain ? or under your arm, like a lieutenant’s scarf? 
You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got 
your Hero. 

Claud. I wish him joy of her. 

Bene. Why that ’s spoken like an honest drover ; 
so they sell bullocks. But did you think the prince 
would have served you thus ? 

Claud. I pray you, leave me. 

Bene^ Ho ! now you strike like the blind man ; 
’twas the boy that stole your meat, and you’ll beat 
the post. 

Claud. If it will not be, I’ll leave you. 

( Extt.^ L. H.j 

Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl ! Now will he creep 

into sedges. But, that my lady Beatrice should 

know me, and not know me ! The prince’s fool ! — 
Ha! it may be, I go under that title, because I am 
merry. — Yea ; but so ; I am apt to do myself wrong : 
I am not so reputed : it is the base, the bitter dispo- 
sition of Beatrice, that puts the w”orld into her per- 
son, and so gives me out. Well, I’ll be reveng’d as 
I may. 




ABOUT NOTHING. 


Enter Don Pedro, r. h. 

Pedro, Now, sign! or, where’s the count ? Did you 
see him \ 

Bene, Troth, my lord, I have play’d the part of 
lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a 
lodge in a warren ; I told him, and, I think I told 
him true, that your Grace had got the good will of 
his young lady; and I offered him my company to a 
willow tree, either to make him a garland, as being 
forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being worthy 
to be whipped. 

Pedro, To be whipped ! What’s his fault ? 

Bene, The flat transgression of a school-boy; wha, 
being overjoy’d with finding a bird’s nest, shows it 
his companion, and he steals it. 

Pedro, Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? 
The transgression is in the stealer. 

Bene, Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had 
been made, and the garland too ; for the garland he 
might have worn himself, ; and the rod he might 
haye bestowed on you, who, as I take it, have stol’n 
his bird’s nest. 

Pedro, I will but teach them to sing, and restore 
them to the owner. 

Bene, If their singing answer your saying, by my 
faith, you say honestly. 

Pedro, The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to you ; 
the gentleman that danced with her, told her, she is 
much wrong’d by you. 

Bene, Wrong’d ! she wrong’d ! she misused me 
past the endurance of a block ; an oak, but with one 
green leef on it, would have answer’d her ; my 
very visor began to assume life, and scold with her. 
She told me, not thinking I had been myself, that I 
was the prince’s jester ; that I was duller than a 
great thaw ; huddling jest upon jest, with such im- 
possible conveyance, upon me, that I stood like a 


22 


MUCH ADO 


man at a mark, with a whole army shooting at me : 
She speaks poniards, and every word stabs : if her 
breath were as terrible as her terminations, there 
were no living near her, she would infect to the 
north star. 

Pedro* Will you marry her ? 

Bene. I would not marry her, though she were en- 
dowed with all that Adam had left him before he 
transgress’d : she would have made Hercules have 
turned spit : yea, and have cleft his club to make the 
fire too. I would to heaven, some scholar would 
conjure her ; for, certainly, while she is here, a man 
may live as quiet in hell, as in a sanctuary ; and 
people sin upon purpose, because they would go 
thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, horror, and pertur- 
bation follows her. 

Beatrice, Claudio, Leonato, and Hero, within^ 
Ha, ha, ha ! 

Pedro. Look, here she comes. 

Bene. Will your Grace command me any service 
to the world’s end ? I will go on the slightest errand 
now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to sendme 
on ; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the far- 
thest inch of Asia ; bring you the length of Prester 
John’s foot; fetch you a hair off the> great Cham’s 
beard ; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather 
than hold three words conference with this harpy. 
You have no employment for me \ 

Pedro. None, but to desire your good company. 

Enter Beatrice, Leonato, Claudio, and 

Hero, l. h. 

Bene. O Lord, sir, here’s a dish I love not ; I 
cannot endure my lady Tongue. ( Exit r. h.J 

Pedro. Come, Lady, come; you. have lost the 
heart of signior Benedick. You have put him down, 
lady, you have put him down. 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


Beat. I have brought Count Claudio, whom you 
sent me to seek. 

Pedro. Why, how now, count ! wherefore are 
you sad ? 

Claud, Not sad, my lord. 

Pedro. How then ? Sick ? 

Claud. Neither, my lord. 

Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor 
merry, nor well : but civil, count ; civil as an orange, 
and something of that jealous complexion. 

Pedro. I’faith lady, I think your blazon to be 
true ; though, I’ll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit 
is false. Here, Claudio, I have woo’d in thy name 
and fair Hero is won ; I have broke with her father, 
and his good will obtained: name the day of mar- 
riage, and heaven give thee joy ! 

Leon. Count, take of me my daughter, and with 
her my fortunes : his Grace hath made the match, 
and all grace say Amen to it. 

(' Claudio crosses to Hero.) 

Beat. Speak, count, ’tis your cue. 

Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I 
were but little happy, if I could say how much. — 
Lady, as you are mine, I am yours : I give away my- 
self for you, and dote upon the exchange. 

Beat. Speak, cousin ; *or, if you cannot, stop his 
mouth with a kiss, and let not him speak, neither. 

Pedro. In faith, lady, you have a merry heart. 

( Crosses to Beatrice.) 

Beat. Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps 
on the windy side of care : — My cousin tells him in 
his ear, that he is in her heart. 

Claud. And so 'she doth cousin. 

Beat. Good lord for alliance ! — Thus goes every 
' one to the world but I, and I am suiiburn’d ; I may 
sit in a corner, and cry, heigh ho ! for a husband, 

Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 

Beat. I would rather have one of your father’s 


MUCH ADO 


getting : Hath your Grace ne’er a brother like you ? 
Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could 
come by them. 

Pedro. Will you have me, lady. 

Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another 
for working days ; your Grace is too costly to wear 
every day: — But, I beseech your Grace, pardon me ; 
\ was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. 

Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be 
merry best becomes you; for out of' question, you 
were born in a merry hour. 

Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry’d ; but 
then there was a star danced, and under that was 
I born. — Cousins, Heaven give you joy ! 

Leon. Niece, will you look to those things I told 
you of ? 

Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle, f Crosses to r. H.j 
— By your Grace’s pardon. f Exit Beatrice r. h. j 

Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant spirited lady. 
Count Claudio, when mean you to go to church? 

Claud. To-morrow, my lord ; time goes on 
crutches, till love have all his rites. 

Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, and a time 
too brief too, to have all things answer my mind. 

Pedro. Come you shake the head at so long a 
breathing ; but, I warrant thee, Claudio, the time 
shall not go dully by us ; I will, in the interim, un- 
dertake one of Hercules’ labours : which is to bring 
signior Benedick, and the lady Beatrice into a 
mountain of affection, the one with the other. I 
would fain liave it a match ; and I doubt not but to 
fashion it, if you three will but minister such as- 
sistance as I shall give you direction. 

Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me 
ten nights watching. 

Claud. And I, my lord. 

Pedro* And you too, gentle Hero ? 


( 


ABOUT NOTHTNO. 25 

Hero* I will do any modest office, my lord, to 
help my cousin to a good husband. 

Pedro* And Benedick is not the unhopefullest 
husband that I know; thus far can I praise him, 
, I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that 
she shall fall in love with Benedick and I, with 
your two helps, will so practice on Benedick, that, 
in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, 
he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we can do this, 
Cupid is no longer an archer ; his glory shall be 
ours, for we are the only love-gods. Go in with 
me, and I will tell you my drift. 

( Exeunt^ r. h.J 

SCENE II . — A Hall in Leonato’s House* 
Enter Don John and Borachio, r. h. 

John* It is so ; the count Claudio shall marry 
the daughter of Leonato. 

Bora* Yea, my lord ; but I can cross it. 

John, xAny bar, aiiy cross, any impediment will 
be medicinal to me : I am sick in displeasure to him; 
and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges 
evenly with mine. How can’st thou cross this mar- 
riage ? 

Bora* Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly, 
that no dishonesty shall appear in me. 

John, Show me briefly how. 

Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year since 
how much I am in the favour of Margaret, the 
waiting-gentlewoman to Hero. 

John, I remember. 

Bora, I can, at any unseasonable instant of the 
night, appoint her to look out at her lady’s chamber- 
window. 

John* What life is in that, to be the death of this 
marriage ! 

c 


£6 


MUCH ADO 


■ \ 


Bora, The poison of that lies in you to temper. 
Go you to the prince your brother \ spare not to tell 
him, that he hath wrong’d his honour in marrying 
the renowned Claudio, (whose estimation do you 
mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a one ^ 
as Hero. 

John, What proof shall I make of that ? 

Bora, Proof enough. Go then, find me a meet 
hour to draw Don Pedro and the count Claudio, 
alone : tell them, that you know that Hero loves me; 
intend a kind of zeal both to the prince and Claudio ; 
as — in love of your brother’s honour who hath 
made this match ; and his friend’s reputation, who 
is thus like to be cozen’d with the semblance of a 
maid, — that you have discover’d thus. They will 
scarcely believe this without trial : offer them in- 
stances ; which shall bear no less likelihood, than to 
see me at her chamber window ; hear me call 
Margaret, Hero ; hear Margaret term me Borachio ; 
and bring them to see this, the very night before 
the intended wedding : for, in the mean time, I will 
so fashion the matter, that Hero shall be absent ; 
and there shall appear such seeming truth of Hero’s 
disloyalty, that jealousy shall be called assurance, 
and all the preparation overthrown. 

John, Grow this to what adverse issue it can, I 
will put it in practice ; be cunning in the working 
this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. (Crosses to 
L. H.) I will presently go learn their day of mar- 
riage. ( Exeunt,^ Borachio, r. h. Don John, l. h.) 

SCENE III. — Leonato’s Garden, 
Benedick, discovered seated. 

Bene, I do much wonder, that one man, seeing 
how much another man is a fool when he dedicates 
his behaviours to love, will, after he hath laugh’d at 


I 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


such shallow follies in others, become the argument 
of his own scorn, by falling in love : and such a man 
is Claudio. I have known, when there was no mu- 
sic with him but the drum and the fife ; and now 
had he rather hear the tabor and the pipe : I have 
known when he would have walk’d ten mile a foot, 
to see a good armour ; and now will he lie ten 
nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. 
He was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like 
an honest man, and a soldier ; and now is he turn’d 
orthographer ; his words are a very fantastical 
banquet, just so many strange dishes. May I be 
so converted, and see with these eyes ? I cannot 
tell : I think not : I will not be sworn, but love may 
transform me to an oyster; but I’ll take my oath 
on it, till he have made an oyster of me, he shall 
never make me such a fool. One woman is fair ; 
yet I am well; another is wise ; yet I am well: an- 
other virtuous ; yet I am well : but till all graces 
be in one \voman, one woman shall not come in my 
grace. Rich she shall be, that’s certain ; wise, or 
I’ll none ; virtuous, or I’ll never cheapen her ; fair, 
or I’ll never look on her ; mild, or come not near 
me ; noble, or not I, of good discourse, an excel- 
lent musician, and her hair shall be of what colour 
it please Heaven. Ha ! the prince and Monsieur 
Love ! I will hide me in the arbour. ( Withdraws*) 

Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, Baltha- 
zar, and Singers, r. h. 

# 

Pedro, Come, shall we hear this music ? 

Claud, Yea, my good lord ; — How still the even- 
ing is, as hush’d on purpose to grace harmony ! 

Pedro, See you where Benedick hath hid himself? 
Come, Balthazar, we’ll hear that song again. 


MUCH A1)0 




GLEE. 


I. 

Sigli no more, ladies, sigh no more,- 
Men were deceivers ever ; 

One foot in sea, and one on shore ; 
To one thing constant never : 
Then sigh not so. 

But let them go. 

And be you blithe and bonny ; 
Converting all your sounds of woe 
Into, Hey nonny, nonny. 

II. 

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo- 
Of dumps so dull and heavy ; 
The fraud of men was ever so. 
Since summer first was Icavy. 
Then sig'h not so, kc. 


Bene. If he had been a dog, that howl’d thus, 
they would have hang’d him: and, I pray Heaven, 
his bad voice bode no mischief! I had as lief have 
heard the night-raven. 

Pedro. Dost thou hear, Balthazar ? I pray thee 
get us some excellent music ; for, to-morrow night 
we Vr'Ould have it at the lady Hero’s chambcr-win- 
dow. 

Balth. The best I can, my lord. 

Pedro. Do so: farewell. Baltha'zar’ 

and Singers, r. h.J Come hither, Leonato : what 
was it you told me of to-day ? that your niece 
Beatrice was- in love with signior Benedick ? 

( They sit.) 

Claud. O, ay: ( Aside .) — Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl 
sits. — I did never think that lady would have loved 


any man. 

LeoJi. No, nor I neither ; but most tvonderfid, 
that she should so dote on signior Benedick, whom 
she hath in all outward behaviour seem’d ever to 
abhor. 

Bene. ( Listening.^ r. h, u. E.j Is’t possible ? Sits 
thc Avind in that corner. 


£9 



ABOUT NOTHING. 


Leon, By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to 
think of it ; but that she loves him with an ‘enraged 
affection, — it is past the infinite of thought. 

Pedro, May be, she doth but counterfeit. 

Claud, ’Faith, like enough. 

Leon, Counterfeit ? There never was counterfeit 
of passion came so near the life of passion, as she 
discovers it. 

Pedro, Why, what effects of passion shows she ? 

Claud, Bait the hook well ; this fish will bite. 

( Aside,) 

Leon, What effects, my lord ! She will sit you, — 
You heard my daughter tell you how. 

Claud, She did, indeed. 

Pedro, How, how, I pray you ? You amaze me : 
I would have thought her spirit had been invincible 
against all assaults of affection. 

Leon, I would have sworn it had, my lord ; espe- 
cially against Benedick. 

Bene, I should think this a gull, but that the 
white-bearded fellow speaks . it : knavery cannot, 
sure, hide himself in such reverence. 

Claud, ( Aside,) He hath ta’en the infection ; 
hold it up. 

Pedro, Hath she made her'“ affection known to 
Benedick ? 

Leon. No ; and swears she never will : that’s her 
torment. 

Bene, So, so. 

Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by 
some other, if she will not discover it. I pray you 
tell Benedick of it, and hear what he will say. 

LuCon, Were it good, think you ? 

Claud. ’Tis very possible he ’ll scorn it; for the 
man, as you know all, hath a contemptible spirit. 

^ '^Bene, Very w^ell ! 

Claud, Never tell him, my lord; let her wear it 
out with good counsel. 

c 2 - 


30 


MUCH ADO 


Leon, Nay, that’s impossible; she may wear her 
heart out first. 

Pedro. Weir, we’ll hear further of it by your daugh- 
ter ; let it cool the while. I love Benedick well ; 
and I could wish he would modestly examine him- 
self, to see how much he is unworthy so good a 
lady; ( Bell rings r. h.J 

Leon. My lord, will you walk ? dinner is ready; 

(They rise.) 

Claud. ( Aside.)' he do not dote on her upon 
this, I will never trust my expectation. 

Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her ; 
and that must your daughter and her g’en tie women 
carry. The sport will be, when they hold one, 
an opinion of another’s dotage, and no such matter; 
that ’s the scene that I would see, — Let us send 
her to call him into dinner. ( Ec^eunt.^ r. 

% 

Benedick advances softly to centre. 

Bene. This can be no trick : The conference was 
sadly borne. — They have the truth of this from He- 
ro. They seem to pity the lady ; it seems, her affec- 
tions have their full bent. Love me ! why, it must 
be requited. I hear how I am censured : they say, 
I will bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love 
come from her ; they say too, that- she will rather 
die than give any sign of affection. — I did never 
think to marry. { Crosses to r. h.J I- must not seem 
proudi — Happy are they that hear their detractions, 
and can. put them to mending. They say the lady 
is fair ! Yis a truth, I can bear them witness ; and 
virtuous; — ’tis so, I cannot reprove it; and wise, 
but for loving me : — By my troth, it is no addition 
to her wit ; — nor no great argument of her folly, for 
I will be horribly in love with her. — I may chance 
have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken 
on. me, because I have railed so long against, mai>- 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


3i 

riage ; But doth not the appetite alter ? A man loves 
the meat in his youth, that he cannot endure in his 
age. Shall quips, and sentences, and these paper bul- 
lets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his 
humour? No, the world must be peopled, f Walks a- 
bout troubled,) When I said, I would die a bachelor 
I did not think I should live till I were married.- — 
Here comes Beatrice : By this day, she’s a fair lady: 
I do spy some marks of love in her. 
f Takes off his hat,^ xvipes ity and adjusts his dre^^s,}- 

Enter Beatrice, r. h. 

• • 

Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid you come 
in to dinner. 

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains* 

Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than 
you take pains to thank me \ if it had been painful, 
I would not have come. 

Bene. You take pleasure then in the message ? 

Beat. Yea, just so much as you may take upon a 
knife’s- point, and choke a daw withal : — You have 
no stomach, signior ; fare you well. C Exit.^ r. h.^ 

Bene.. Ha! Against my will I am sent to bid you 
come in to dinner — there’s a double meaning in that. 
I took no more pains for those thanks., than you took 
pains to thank me — that’s as much as to say, Any 
pains that I take for you is as easy as thanks l If I 
do not take pity on her, I am a villain ; if I do not 
love her, I am a Jew: I will go get her picture. 

r. H.J 


END.OE ACT IT.- 


S4< 


MUCH ADO 


Consume away 'in sighs, waste inwardly : 

It were a better death than die with mocks. 

Urs, Yet tell her of it, hear what she will say. 
Hero* No, rather I will go to Benedick, 

And counsel him to fight against his passion ; 

And, truly, Pll devise some honest slanders 
To stain my cousin with : one doth not know, 

H ow much an ill word may empoison liking. 

Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. 

She cannot be so much w'ithout true judgment, 
("Having so sweet and excellent a wit. 

As she is priz’d to have ) as to refuse 
So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick. 

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. 
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. — 
When are vou married, madam ? 

Hero, Why, every day ; — to-morrow. 

Urs. She’s lim’d I warrant you ; we have caught 
her, madam. 

Hero. If it pro\e so, then loving goes by haps : 
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 

( Exeunt Hero Ursula, r. h.) 

Beatrice advances cautiouslij. 

Beat, What fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true? 
Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much ? 
Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 

No glory lives behind the back of such. 

And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee ; 

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ; 

If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
To bind our hopes up in a holy band : 

For others say, thou dost deserve ; and I 

Believe it better than reportingly. ( Exit r. h.) 


i 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


55 


SCENE II . — A Nail in Leonato’s House. 

Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and 

Benedick, l. h. 

Pedro, I do but stay till your marriage be con- 
summate, and then go I toward Arragon. 

Chnid, I’ll bring you thither, 'my lord, if you’ll 
vouchsafe me. 

Pedro, Nay, I will only be bold with Benedick 
for his company; for, from the crown of his head 
to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth ; he hath 
twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string, and the little 
hang-man dare not shoot at him : he hath a heart 
as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; 
for what his heart thinks"; his tongue speaks. 

Bene, Gallants, I am not as I have been. 

Leon, So say I ; methinks you are sadder. 

Claud, I hope he be in love. 

Pedro, Hang him, truant; there’s no true drop 
of blood in him, to be truly touch’d with love : if 
he be sad, he wants money. 

Bene, I have the tooth-ache. 

Pedro, D raw it. 

Bene, Hang it! v 

Pedro, What, sigh for the tooth-ache ? 

I.eon, Where is but a humour, or a worm ? 

Bene, Well, every one can master a grief, but 
he that has it. ( Handkerchief to his face,) 

Claud, Yet say I, he is in love. If he be not in 
love with some woman, there is no believing of old 
signs; he brushes his hat o’ mornings; What should 
that bode ? ^ 

Pedro, Nay, he rubs himself with civet : Can you 
smell him out by that ? ( Crosses to centre ^ and 

passes the handkerchief from one to the other,) 

Claud. That’s as much as to say, The sweet 
youth’s in love. 


MUCH ADO 


Consume away ‘in sighs, waste inwardly : 

It were a better death than die with mocks. 

Urs, Yet tell her of it, hear what she will say. 
Hero* No, rather I will go to Benedick, 

And counsel him to fight against his passion : 

And, truly. I’ll devise some honest slanders 
To stain my cousin with : one doth not know, 

How much an ill word may empoison liking. 

Urs. O, do not do your cousin such a wrong. 

She cannot be so much without true judgment, r 
('Having so sweet and excellent a wit. 

As she is priz’d to have y as to refuse 
So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick. 

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good name. 
Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. — 
When are you married, madam ? 

Hero. Why, every day ; — to-morrow. 

Urs. She’s lim’d I warrant you ; we have caught 
her, madam. 

Hero. If it prove so, then loving goes by haps : 
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. 

( Exeunt Hero Ursula, r. h.) 

Beatrice advances cautiously. 

Beat. What fire is in mine ears ? Can this be true? 
Stand I condemn’d for pride and scorn so much ? 
Contempt, farewell ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 

No glory lives behind the back of such. 

And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee ; 

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ; 

If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
To bind our hopes up in a holy band : 

For others say, thou dost deserve ; and I 

Believe it better than reportingly. ( Exit r. h.) 


i 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


55 

SCENE II. — A Hall in Leonato’s House. 

Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, Claudio, and 

Benedick, l. h. 

Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be con- 
summate, and then go I toward Arragon. 

Claud. I’ll bring you thither, 'my lord, if you’ll 
vouchsafe me. 

Pedro. Nay, I will only be bold with Benedick 
for his company : for, from the crown of his head 
to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth ; he hath 
twice or thrice cut Cupid’s bow-string, and the little 
hang-man dare not shoot at him ; he hath a heart 
as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper ; 
for what his heart thinks"; his tongue speaks. 

Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. 

Leon. So say I ; methinks you are sadder. 

Claud. I hope he be in love. 

Pedro. Hang him, truant ; there’s no true drop 
of blood in him, to be truly touch’d with love : if 
he be sad, he wants money. 

Bene. I have the tooth-ache. 

Pedro. Draw it. 

Bene. Hang it 1 

Pedro. What, sigh for the tooth-ache ? 

Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm ? 

Bene. Well, every one can master a grief, but 
he that has it. C Handkerchief to his face.) 

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. If he be not in 
love with some woman, there is no believing of old 
signs; he brushes his hat o’ mornings; W hat should 
that bode ? 

Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet : Can you 
smell him out by that ? ( Crosses to centre., and 

passes the handkerchief from one to the other. J 

Claud. That’s as much as to say, The sweet 
youth’s in love. 


MUCH ADO 


S6 

- Ptdro, The greatest note of it is his melancholy. 

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which is now 
erept into a lutestring. 

Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for Kim : 
Conclude, conclude, he is in love. 

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. 

Pedro. That would 1 know too ; I warrant one 
that knows him not. 

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions; and, in des- 
pite of all, dies for him. 

Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. 

Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ache. — 
Old signior, walk aside Vyith me. (Retiring r. h.) 
1 have studied eight or nine wise words to speak to 
you, which these hobby-horses must not bean 

( Exeunt.^ Benedick and Leonato, r. h.J 

Pedro. For my life, to break with him about Beat- 
rice. 

Claud. ’Tis even so : Hero and Margaret have 
by this time play’d their parts with Beatrice ; and 
then the two bears will not bite one another, when 
they meet. 

Enter Don John, l. n. 

John. My lord and brother, Heaven save you. 

Pedro. Good den, brother. 

John. If your leisure serv’d, I would speak with 
you. 

Pedro. In private ? 

John. If it please you ; — yet count Claudio may 
hear ; for what I would speak of, concerns him. 

Pedro. What’s the matter ? 

John. Means your lordship to be married to- 
morrow ? 7b Claudio.) 

Pedro. You know he does. 

John. I know not that, when he knows what I 
know. 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


37 


Claud, If there be any impediment, I pray you 
discover it. 

John. You may think I love you not ; let that ap- 
pear hereafter, and aiai better at me by that I now 
will manifest : For my brother, I think, he holds you 
well ; and in dearness of heart hath holp to effect 
3 ^ 0 Lir ensuing marriage : surely, suit ill spent, and 
labour ill bestowed ! 

Pedro, Why, what’s the matter ? 

John, 1 came hither to tell you; and, circum- 
stances shorten’d, (for she hath been too long a 
talking ofj the lady is disloyal, 

Claud, Who t Hero ? 

John. Even she; Leonato’s Hero, your Hero, 
every man’s Hero. 

Claud, Disloyal ? 

John, The word is too good to paint out her 
wickedness ; 1 could say, she were worse ; think 
you of a worse title, and I will fit her to it. Wonder 
not till further warrant : go but with me to-night, 
you shall see her chamber-window enter’d : even 
the night before her wedding day ; if you love her 
then, lo-morrow wed her ; but it would better fit 
your honour to change your mind. 

Claud. May this be so ? 

Pedro. I will not think it. 

John, If you dare not trust that you see, confess 
not that you know ; if you will follow me, I will 
show you enough ; and when you have seen more, 
and heard more, proceed accordingly. 

Claud, If I see any thing to-night why I should 
not marry her to-morrow ; in the congregation, 
where I should wed, there will I shame her. 

Pedro, And, as I woo’d for thee to obtain her, I 
will join with thee to disgrace her. 

John, I will disparage her no farther, till you are 
my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight, and 
let the issue show itself. (Exeunt,^ l. h.) 


38 


MUCH ADO 


SCENE IIL— J Street. 

Belter Dogberry, Verges, Seacoal, Oatcake, 

and four Watchmen, l. h. 

Dogb. Are you good men and true ? 

Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they should 
suffer salvation, body and soul. 

Dogh. Nay, that were a punishment too good for 
them, if they should have any allegiance in them, 
being chosen for the Prince’s watch. 

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neighbour 
Dogberry. 

Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless 
man to be constable ? 

Verg. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal ; 
for they can write and read. 

Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal: Heaven 
hath blessed you with a good name : to be a well- 
favoured man is the gift of fortune \ but to write 
and read comes by nature. 

Sea. Both which, master constable — 

Dogb. You have. 

Sea. I have. 

Dogb. I knew it would be your answer. Well, 
for your favour, sir, why, give Heaven thanks, and 
make no boast of it ; and for your writing and read- 
ing, let that appear when there is no need of such 
vanity. You are thought here to be the most sense- 
less and fit man for the constable of the watch ; 
therefore bear you the lantern ; this is your charge : 
You shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you are to 
bid any man stand, in the Prince’s name. 

Sea. How if he will not stand I 

Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but let 
him go ; and presently call the rest of the 
watch together, and thank Heaven you are rid of a 
knave. 


ABOUT j\0 THING. 


39 


Verg\ If he will not stand when he is bidden, he 
IS none of the Prince’s subjects-. 

pogb. True,' and they are to meddle with none 
but the Prince’s subjects ; — You shall also make no 
noise in the streets ; for, for the watch to babble 
and to talk, is most tolerable and not to be en- 
dured. 

Sea. We will rather sleep than talk ; we know 
what belongs to a watch. 

Dogh. Why, you speak like an ancient and most 
quiet watchman ; for I cannot see how sleeping 
should offend : only, have a care that your bills 
be not stolen ; Well, you are to call at all the ale- 
houses, and bid those that are drunk get them to 
bed. 

Sea. How if they will not ? 

Dogb. Why then, let them alone, till they are 
sober ; if they make you not then the better answer, 
you may say, they are not the men you took them 
for* 

Sea. Well, sir. 

Dogb. If you meet a thief you may suspect him, 
by virtue of your office, to be no true man : and 
for such kind of men, the less you meddle or make 
with them, why, the more is for your honesty. 

Sea. If we know him to be a thief, shall we not 
lay hands on him ? 

Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may ; but, I 
think, they that touch pitch will be defiled : the 
most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, 
is, to let him show’ himself what he is, and steal out 
of your company. 

Vejg. You have been always called a merciful 
man, partner. 

Dogb, Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will; 
much more a man who hath any honesty in him. 

Verg. II you hear a child cry in the night, you 
must call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 


iO 


MUCH ADO 


Sea» How if the nurse be asleep, and will not heaF 
us ? 

JDogb, Why then, depart in peace, and let the 
child wake her with crying ; for the ewe that will 
not hear her lamb when it baes, will never answer a 
calf when he bleats. 

Verg, ’Tis very true. . 

Dogb. This is the end of the charge. You, con- 
stable, are to present the Prince’s own person ; if 
you meet the Prince in the night you may stay him. 

Verg. Nay, by ’r lady, that, 1 think, he cannot.. 

Doffb. F ive shillings to one on’t, with any man' 
that knows the statues, he may stay him : marry, not 
without the Prince be willing: for, indeed, the watch 
ought to ofiend no man j and it is an offence to stay 
a man against his will. 

Verg, By ’r lady, I think, it be so. 

Dogb, Ha, ha, ha ! Well, masters, good night : an 
there be any matter of weight chances, call up me : 
keep your fellows’ counsels and your own, and good 
night. — Come, neighbour. 

C Exeunt^ Dogberry, and Verges, r. H.j 

Sea, Well, masters, we hear our charge : let us go 
sit hereupon the church-bench till two, and then all 
to-bed. 

Re-Enter Dogberry, and Verges, r. h. 

Dogb, One word more, honest neighbours : I pray 
you, watch about signior Leonato’s door ; for the 
wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil 
to-night ; Adieu, be vigilance, I beseech you. 

Dogberry <7^^/ Verges, r. h.^ 

Enter Borachio, r. h. s. e. 

Bora, What ! Conrade, — 

Sea, Peace, stir not. f Aside^ to his partij on L. h. j 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


11 


Bora, Conrade, I say ! 

Enter Conrade, r. h. s. e. 

Con, Here, man, I am at thy elbow. 

Bora, Stand thee close then ; and I will, like a 
true drunkard, utter all to thee. 

Oat, ( Aside,) Some treason, masters ; yet stand 
close. 

Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John 
a thousand ducats. 

Con, Is it possible that any villainy should be so 
dear ? 

Bora, Thou should’st rather ask, if it were possi- 
ble any villainy should be so rich ; for when rich 
villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make 
what price they will. 

Bora. But know, that I have to-night woo’d Mar- 
garet, the lady Hero’s gentlewoman, by the name of 
Hero ; she leans me out at her mistress’ chamber- 
window, bids me a thousand times good night, — I 
tell this tale vilely : — I should first tell thee, how the 
Prince Claudio, and my master, planted, and placed, 
and possessed by my master Don John, saw afar off 
in the orchard this amiable encounter. 

Con, And thought they, Margaret was Hero ^ 

( Watch preparing' to attack,)' 

Bora, Two of them did, the prince and Claudio ; 
but the devil my master knew she was Margaret ; 
away went Claudio enraged, p Watch advance.^) 
swore he would meet her as he was appointed, next 
morning at the temple, and there, before the whole 
congregation,shame her with whathe saw over-night,, 
and send her home again without a husband. 

Oat. We charge you in the prince’s name, stands 

Sea, Call up the right master constable : ( Exit a 
Watchman.^ l. ii.j We have here recovered the most 

d 2 




MUCH ADO 


dangerous piece of lechery that ever was known m 
the commonwealth. 

Oat. And one Deformed is one of them ; I know 
him, he wears a lock. 

Co?i. Masters, masters, — f Seacoal and Watchmen 

seize them.) 

Oat. You’ll be made bring Deformed forth, I 
warrant you. 

Con. Masters, — 

Sea. Never speak ; we charge you, let us obey you 
to go with us.‘ (Exeunt., l. H.j 


SCENE IV. — Room m Leonato’s 

House. 

Enter Leonato, r. h. Dogberry a;2(^ Verges, l. h. 

Leon. What would you with me, honest neigh- 
bour ? 

Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence 
with you, that discerns you nearly. 

Leon. Brief, I pray you ; for you see, ’tis a busy 
time with me. 

JDogb. Marry, this it is, sir. 

Verg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. 

Leon. What is it, my good friends ?. 

Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little off the^ 
matter : an old man, sir, and his wits are not so^ 
blunt, as, Heaven help, I would desire they were 
but, in faith; honest, as the skin between his brows. 

Verg. Yes, I thank Heaven, I am as honest as any 
man living, that is an old man, and no honester than I. 

JDogb. Comparisons are odorous : palabraSyuCigh-- 
hour Verges. 

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. 

■ Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


are the poor duke’s officers ; but, truly, for mine own 
part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find in 
my heart to bestow it all on your worship. 

Leon, All thy tediousness on me ! ha! 

Dogb, Yea, and ’twere a thousand times more than 
’tis : for I hear as good exclamation on your wor- 
ship, as of any man in the city ; and though I be but 
a poor man, I am glad to hear it. 

Verg\ And so am I. 

Leon, I would fain know what you have to say. 

Verg, Marry sir, our watch to-night, excepting 
your worship’s presence, have ta’en a couple of as> 
arrant knaves as any in Messina. 

Dogb, A good old man, sir ^ he -will be talking ; 
as they say, When the age is in, the wit is out; Hea- 
ven help us ! it is a world to see ! — Well said, i’faith, 
neighbour Verges: — An two men ride of ahorse, 
one must ride behind An honest soul, i’ faith, sir; 
by my troth he is, as ever broke bread: but, Heaven 
is to be worshipp’d t All men are not alike ; alas 
good neighbour ! 

Leon. Indeed neighbour, he comes too short of you. 

Dogb. Gifts, that Heaven gives. 

Leon. I must leave you. 

Dogb. One word, sir : our watch, sir, have, in- 
deed, comprehended two aspicious persons, and we 
would have them this morning examined before y^our 
worship. 

Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring 
it me ; I am now in great haste, as it may appear un- 
to you. 

Dogb. It shall be suffigancer 

Leon. Fare you well. Come in and take some 
wine, farewelL , f Exit.^ r . h.) 

Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis 
Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the 
gaol ; we are now to examination these mem 

Verg.. And we must do it wisely 


MUCH ADO 


4 '^ 


Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you 
here’s that touching his forehead ) shall drive some 
of them to a non com : only get the learned writer to 
set down our excommunication, and meet me at the 
gaol. f Exeunt^ Dogberry, r. h. Verges, l. H.j 


END OF ACT III. 




ABOUT NOTHINt^^. 


40 


ACT IV. 

SCENE I.— A Chapel 

Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, Friar, Clau- 
dio, Benedick, Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, 
and Ladies discoverd. 

Leon, Come, Friar Francis, be brief ; only to the 
plain form of marriage, and you shall recount their 
particular duties afterwards. 

Friar, You come hither, my lord, to marry this 
lady f 

Claud, No. 

Leon, To be married to her, friar; you come to 
marry her. 

Friar, Lady, you come hither to be married to 
this count? 

Hero, I do. 

Friar, If either of you know any inward impedi- 
ment why you should not be conjoined, I charge 
you, on your souls, to utter it. 

Claud, Know you any. Hero ? 

Hero, None, my lord. 

Friar, Know you any, count ? 

Leon. I dare make his answer, none. 

Claud, O, what men dare do ! what men may do ! 
What men daily do ! 

Bene. How now ! Interjections ? 

Claud, Stand thee by. Friar ; Father by your leave; 
Will you with free and unconstrained soul 
Give me this maid, your daughter ? 

Leon. As freely son, as Heaven did give her me. 
Claud, And what have I to give you back, whose 
worth 

May counterpoise this rich and precious gift? 

' Pedro, Nothing, unless you render her again. 


15 


MUCH ADO 


Claud, Sweet prince, you learn me noble thank* 
fulness. — 

There, Leonato, take her back again ; 

She’s but the sign and semblance of her honour: — 
Behold; how like a maid she blushes here 5 
O, what authority and show of truth 
Can cunning sin cover itself withal ! 

She knows the heat of a luxurious*bed : 

Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 

Leon, What do you mean, my lord ? 

Claud. Not to.be married. 

Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. 

Leon, Dear my lord, if you in your own proof 

Have vanquish’d the resistance of her youth, 

Claud, No, Leonato, 

I never tempted her with word too large ; 

But, as a brother to his sister show’d 
Bashful sincerity and comely love. 

Hero. And seem’d I ever otherwise to you ? 
Claud, Out on thy seeming ! I will write against 
it : — (Benedick retires up the Stage, J 

You seem to me as Dian in her orb ; 

As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ; 

But you are more intemperate in your blood 
Than Venus, or those pamper’d animals 
That rage in savage sensuality. 

Hero, Is my lord well, that he doth speak so wide? 
Leon, Sweet prince, why speak not you ? 

Pedro, What should I speak? 

I stand dishonour’d, that have gone about 
To link my dear friend to a wanton here. 

Leon, Are these things spoken? or do I but dream? 
John, Sir, they are spoken, and these things are 
true. 

Hero, True, O Heaven ! 

Bene, ( doxvn l. H.j This looks not like a nuptial. 
Claud, Leonato, stand I here ? 

Is this the Prince ? Is this the Prince’s brother ? ‘ 
Is this face Hero’s ? Are our eyes our own ? 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


47 


Leon, All this is so; but what of this, my lord ? 
Claud, Let me but move one question to your 
daughter ; 

And, by that fatherly and kindly power 
That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 

Leon, I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. 
Hero, O Heaven defend me ! hov/ am 1 beset! 
What kind of catechizing call you this? 

Claud, L'o make you answer truly to your name. 
Hero, Is it not Hero? Who can blot that name 
With any just reproach ? 

Claud, Marry, that can Hero ; 

Hero, itself can blot out Hero’s virtue. 

What man was he talk’d with you yesternight 
Out at vour window, betwixt twelve and one ? 

Now, if you can, answer to this. 

Hero, 1 talk’d with no man at that hour, my lord. 
Pedro, Leonato, 

I am sorry you must hear ; upon mine honour, 
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count. 

Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night, 

U'alk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; 

Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, 
Confess’d the vile encounters they have had 
A thousand times in secret. 

John, Fie, fie! they arc 

Not to be nam’d, my lord, not to be spoke of; 

There is not chastity enough in language, 

Without offence, to utter them ; Thus, pretty lady, 
I am sorry for thy much mis-governnient. 

C Exit Don John, l. H.j 
Claud, O Flero ! what an angel hadst thou been, 
If half thy outward graces had been placed 
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart ! 
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! farewell, 
For thee I’ll lock up ail the gates of love, 

And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang, 



48 


MUCH ADO 


To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm, 

^ And never shall it more be gracious. 

(Hero swoons in Beatrice’s arms,) 
Leon. Hath no man’s dagger here a point for 
me ! 

Beat, Why, how now cousin, wherefore sink you 
down ? 

( Exeunt Don Pedro, and Claudio, l. h.^ 
Bene. (l. h.) How doth the lady ? 

Beat.. Dead, 1 think ; — Help, uncle ; — 

Hero! Why, Hero! — Uncle! — Signior Benedick! 
Friar ! 

Leon, O fate, take not away thy heavy hand ! 
Death is the fairest cover for her shame, 

That may be wish’d for. 

Beat. How now cousin Hero ? 

Friar. Have comfort lady.(^ Advancing to centre.) 
Leon. Dost thou look up? 

Friar. Yea ; wherefore should she not? 

Leon. Wherefore ? Why doth not every earthl'v^ 
thing 

Cry shame upon her ? Could she here deny 
The story that is printed in her blood ? — 

Do not live. Hero ; do not ope thine eyes : 

For did I think thou would’st not quickly die, 
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames, 
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches. 
Strike at thy life. Griev’d I, 1 had but one ? 

Chid I for that at frugal nature’s frame ? 

I’ve, one too much by thee ! O, she is fallen 

Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 

Hath drops too few to wash her clean again; 

Bene. Sir, sir, be patient: 

For my part, I am so attir’d in wonder, 

I know not what to say. 

Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is belied ! 

Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night ? 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


49 


Beat, No, truly, not ; although until last night, 

I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 

Leon, Confirm’d, confirm’d ! O, that is stronger 
made, 

Which was before barred up with ribs of iron ! 
Would the two Princes lie ? and Claudio lie ? 

Who lov’d her so, that, speaking of her foulness. 
Wash’d it with tears ? Hence from her ; let her die. 

Friar, Hear me a little ; 

For I have only been silent so long, 

And given way unto this course of fortune, 

By noting of the lady : I have mark’d 
A thousand blushing apparitions start 
Into her face ; a thousand innocent shames 
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ; 

Call me a fool: Trust not my reading, nor my ob- 
servations. 

My reverence, calling, nor divinity. 

If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
Under some biting error. 

Leon, Friar, it cannot be : 

Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left, 

Is, that she will not add to her damnation 
A sin of perjury ; she not denies it: 

Why seek’st thou then to cover with excuse 
That which appears in proper nakedness ? 

Friar, Lady, what man is he you are accus’d of? 
Hero, They know, that do accuse me ; I know 
none : 

If I know more of any man alive. 

Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant. 

Let all my sins lack mercy, f Crosses to Leonato,^ and 
kneels , ) — O my father. 

Prove you that any man with me convers’d 
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
Maintain’d the change of words with any creature, 
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. [Princes. 
Friar, There is some strange misprision in the 

E 


50 


MUCH ADO 


Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; 
And if their wisdoms be misled in this, 

The practice of it lives in John the bastard, 

Whose spirits toil in frames of villainies. 

Leon. I know not; if they speak but truth of her. 
These hands shall tear her ; if they wrong her 
honour. 

The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 

Friar. Pause a while, 

And let my counsel sway you in this case. 

Your daughter here the Princes left for dead ; 

Let her awhile be secretly kept in.’ 

And publish it that she is dead indeed. 

Leon. What shall become of .this ? what will this 
do? ^ 

Friar. She dying, as it must be maintain’d, 

Upon, the instant that she was accus’d. 

Shall be lamented, pitied and excus’d 
Of every hearer: So will it fair with Claudio, 

When he shall hear she died upon his words. 

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you: 
And though, you know, my inwardness and love 
Is very much unto the Prince and Claudio, 

Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this 
As secretly, and justly, as your soul 
Should with your body.' 

Leon. Being that I flow in grief, 

The smallest twine may lead me. 

Friar. ’Tis' well consented ; presently away ; — 
Come lady, die to live : this wedding day, 

Perhaps, is but prolong’d; have patience and endure. 
(Exeunt., all but Bj^nedick and Beatrice, r. h.Ji 
Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while? 
Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. 

Bene. I will not desire that. ( Advances to her.) 

Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. 

Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is 
wrong’d. 




ABOUT NOTHING. 


51 


Beat, Ah, how much might the man deserve of 
me, that would right her. 

Bene, Is there any way to show such friendship ? 

Beat, A very even way, but no such friend. 

Bene, May a man do it ? 

Beat, It is a man’s office, but not yours. 

Bene, I do love nothing in the world so well as 
you ; (Takes her hand,) Is not that strange ? 

Beat, As strange as the thing I know not : It were 
as possible for me to say, I loved nothing so well as 
you : but believe me not ; and yet I lie not ; I con- 
fess nothing, nor I deny nothing : — I am sorry for 
my cousin. 

Bene, By my sword, Beatrice, thou lovest me. 

Beat, Do not swear by it, and eat it. 

Bene, I will swear by it, that you love me ; and I 
will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. 

Beat, Will you not eat your word ? 

Bene, With no sauce that can be devised to it ; I 
protest, I. love thee. 

Beat, Why then. Heaven forgive me ! 

Bene, What offence, sweet Beatrice ? 

Beat,' You have staid me in a happy hour ; I was 
about to protest, I loved you. 

Bene, And do it with all thy heart. 

Beat, I love you with so much of my heart, that 
none is left to protest. 

Bene, Come, bid me do any thing for thee. • 

Beat, Kill Claudio. 

Bene, Ha ! not for the wide world. 

Beat, You kill me to deny it : Farewel. 

( Gohlg,^ R. H.j 

Bene, Tarry, sweet Beatrice. (Takes her hand,) 

Beat, I am gone, though I am here ; — There is no 
love in you : — Nay, I pray you let me go. 

( Struggling,J 

Bene, Beatrice,^ — 

Beat, In faith, I will go.. ( Breaks from him,) 


MUCH ADO 



Bene. We ’ll be friends first. 

( Follows and pulls her bacl^^J 

Beat^ You dare easier be friends with me, than 
fight with mine enemy. 

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? 

Beat. Is he not approved in the height a villain, 
that hath slander’d, scorn’d, dishonour’d my kins- 
woman ? — O, that I were a man ! — What ! bear her 
in hand until they come to take hands ; and then 
with public accusation, uncovered slander, unmiti- 
gated rancour, — O Heaven, that I were a man 1 I 
would eat his heart in the market-place. 

Bene. Hear me, Beatrice. 

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window ? — a pro- 
per saying ! 

Bene. Nay but, Beatrice ; — 

Beat. Sweet Hero ! — she is wrong’d, she is slan- 
der’d, she is undone. 

Bene. Beat— 

Beat. Princes, and counties ! Surely a princely 
testimony, a goodly count-confect ; a sweet gallant^ 
surely ! O that I were a- man for his sake ! or that I 
had. any friend; would be- a man for my sake But 
manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into com- 
pliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and 
trim ones too : he is now as valiant as Hercules, 
that only tells a lie, and swears it: — I cannot be a< 
man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with 
grieving. 

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice : By this. hand, Hove 
thee. 

Beat. Use it for my love some other way than 
swearing by it. 

Bene. Think you in your soul, the count Claudio 
hath wrong’d Piero ?. 

Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul. 

Bene. Enough, I am engaged, (puts 07i, his hat.) 
I wUl challenge him*. 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


Beat. Will you ? 

Bene. Upon my soul I will. I will kiss your hand, 
and so leave you. 

Beat. You’ll be sure to challenge him. 

Bene. By those bright eyes I will. 

Beat. My dear friend, kiss my hand again. 

Bene. As you hear of me, so think of me. Go, 
comfort your cousin ; I must say she’s dead, and so 
farewell. 

Beat. Benedick, kill him, kill him, if you can ! 

Bene. As sure as he is alive I will. — By this hand, 
Claudio shall render me a dear account. 

( Exeunt Beatrice, r. h. Benedick, l. h.J 


SCENE II.— 

Four ‘Watchmen, xvith table and stools.^ then 
Enter Dogberry, Verges, Seacoal, and Oat- 
cake, l H. and seat themselves at Table. 

Dogh. Is our"' whole dissembly appear’d ? 

Enter Sexton, r. ji. with a large book^ inkhorn and 

pen. 

Verg. O, a stool and a cushion for the sexton ! 
Sexton. Which be the malefactors ? 

Dogb. Marry, that am I and my partner. 

Verg. Nay, that’s certain ; we have the exhibition 
to examine. 

Sexton. But which- are the offenders that are to be 
examined ? let them come before master constable. 

e 2 


54t 


MUCH ADO 


Dogb, Yea, marry, let them come before me. — 
(^Seacoal heclions to the Watch,) 

Enter Ai:Qiiy bringing in Borachio and Con- 

KADE, L. H. 

What is your name, friend? 

Bora, Borachio., - 

Dogb. Pray write down — Bbrachio. Yours,, 

sirrah ? 

Con, I am a gentleman, sir,, and ray name is Con- 
rade. 

Dogb, Write down — master gentleman. Conrade. 
Masters, do you- serve Heaven. 

Con, and Bora, Yesy sir,, we hope. 

Dogb, Write down — that they hope they serve 
Heaven: and write Heaven first; for Heaven de- 
fend but Heaven should go before such villains ! — 
Masters, it is proved already that you are little bet- 
ter than false knaves i and. it will go near to be 
thought so shortly. How answer you for yourselves ? 

Con, Marry, sir, we say we are none. 

Dogb, A marvellous* witty fellow, I assure yot^ ; 
but I will go about with him. — Come you hither, 
sivjah a v/ord in your ear, sir I say to you, it. is. 
thought you are false knaves. CTo Borachio,) 

Bora, Sir, I say to you, we are none. 

Dogb, Well, stand aside. — ’F'ore Heaven they are 
both in a tale : Have you writ down — that they are 
none ? • 

Sexton, Master constable, you go not the- way to 
examine ; you must call the watch that are their 
accusers. 

Dogb, Yea, marry, that’s the eftest way':— Let 
the watch stand forth : — Masters, I charge you, in 
the Prince’s name, accuse these men. 

Oat, This man said, sir, that Don John, the. 
.Prince’s brother, was a villain. 


ABOUT NOTHING, 


55 


D'ogb, Write down — Prince John a villain : — Why 
this is flat perjury, to call a Prince’s brother^ — vil- 
lain. 

Bara, Master constable, — 

Dogb, Pray thee fellow, peace ; I do not like thy 
look, I promise thee. 

Sexton, What heard you him say else ? 

Sea, Marry, that he had received a thousand du- 

V ■ 

cats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hero 
wrongfully. 

Dogb, Flat burglary, as ever was committed. 

Verg, Yea, by the mass, that it is. 

Sexton, What else, fellow ? 

Oat, And that coant Claudio did mean, upon his- 
words, to disgrace Hero before the whole assembly, 
and not marry her. 

Dogb, O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into 
everlasting redemption for this. 

Sexton,. What else t 

Sea, This is all. 

Sexton,. And this is more, masters, than you carr 
deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen, 
away Hero, was in this manner accused, in this 
very manner refused, and upon the grief of this,, 
suddenly died. — Master constable, let these men be 
bound, and brought to Leonato’s y, I will go before, 
and show him their examination. C Exit,^ l. n,J 

Dogb,. Coiiie, let them be opinioned. — Comeybind 
them : Thou naughty varlet ! . 

Co7i, Away !. you. are an ass, you are an ass. 

Dogb, Dost thou not suspect my place ? Dost 
thou not suspect my years ? — O that he were here to 
write me down — an ass ! — but, masters, remember,, 
that I am an, ass ; though it be not written down, yet 
forget not that I am an assi^ — No, thou villain, thoa 
art full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good 
witness. I am a wise fellow; and, which is more, an of- 
ficer ; and, which is more, a householder f, and,,whichi 


5a 


MUCH ADO 


•j 

is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any in Messina; 
and one that knows the law, go to and a rich fel- 
low enough, go to; and a fellow that hath had losses; 
and one tliat hath two gowns, and every thing hand- 
some about him : — Bring him away. O, that I had 
been writ down — an ass ! f Exeunt^ l. h.J 


KND OF ACT IV.. 

/ 


/ 


] 










K 


i 


r* 









f 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


St 

ACT V. 

> 

SCENE I . — A Court before Leonatg^s House:, 
Enter Leonato Antonio, r. h. 

Ant, If you go on thus, you will kill yourself \ 
And ’tis not wisdom, thus to second gri'ef 
Against yourself. 

Leoni I pray thee, hold thy peace, 

Give not me counsel. 

Nor let no comfort e’er delight mine ear, 

But such a one whose wrongs doth suit with min^; 
Bring me a father, that so lov’d his child. 

Whose joy of her is overwhelm’d- like me, 

And bid him speak to me of patience ; 

No, no ; ’tis all men’s office to speak patience 
To those that wring under the load of sorrow ; 

But no man’s virtue, nor sufficiency. 

To be so moral, when he shall endure 
Tlie like himself ; therefore, give me no counsel. 
Ant, Therein do men from children nothing^diiffef . 
Leon, I pray thee, peace ; I will be flesh and blood; 
For there was never yet philosopher. 

That could endure the tooth-ache patiently ; 
However they have writ the style of gods,, 

And made a pish at chance and sufferance.. 

Ant, Yet .bend not all the harm upon yo^urself ; 
Make those that do offend vou, suffer too^ 

Leon, There thou speak’st reason : nay, I will 
do so :: . 

My soul doth tell me. Hero is belied : 

And that shall Claudio know, so shall the Prince, 
And all of them, that thus dishonour her. 

Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio, r,. vl, cross to L. Ho 

Ant, Here, come the Prince and Claudio, hastilvo 




MUCH ADO 


Leon, Good den, good den. 

Pedro. Good day to both of you. 

Leon, Hear you, my lords ? 

Pedro, We have some haste, Leonato. 

Leon, Some haste, my lord ! — well, fare you well, 
my lords : — 

Are you so hasty now ? — well, all is one. 

Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 
Ant. If he could right himself with quarrelling, 
Some of us would lie low. 

Claud, Who wrongs him Sir ? 

Leon, Marry, 

Thou,, thou dost wrong me 5 thou dissembler, thou! 
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword^ 

J fear thee not. 

Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, 

If it should give your age such cause of fear : 

In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 

Leon, Tush, tush, man, never leer and jest at me: 
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool, 

As, under privilege of age^ to hr?tg 

Wh?.t I hsVc done being young, or what would do,* 

Were I not old : know, Claudio, to thy teeth. 

Thou hast so wrong’d my innocent child and me, 
That I am forced to lay my reverence by; 

And, with grey hairs, and bruise of many days. 

Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 

I say, thou hast belied my innocent child,. 

Thy slander hath gone through and through her heart, 
And she lies bury’d with her ancestors ; 

O, in a tomb where never scandal slept. 

Save this of hers, fram’d by thy villainy ! 

f Draxvs and going to him. ) 

Claud, My villainy ! 

Leon. Thine Claudio ; thine, I say. 

Pedro, You say not right, old man. 

Leon. My lord, my lord, 

I’ll prove it on his body, if he dare i 


ABOUT NO I HING. 


59 


Despite his nice fence, and his active practice, 

His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. ♦ 
Claud, Away, I will not have to do with you. 
Leon, Canst thou so daff me f Thou hast kill’d my 
child ; 

If thou kill’st me boy, thou shalt kill a man. 

Ant, Nay, marry, he shall kill two of us, and men 
indeed ; 

But that's no matter, let him kill one first ; 

Win me and wear me, let him answer me : 

Come, follow me, boy, follow me : 

I’ll whip you from your foining fence ; 

Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. 

Leon, Brother, — 

Ant, Content yourself ; Heav’n knows I lov’d my 
niece. 

And she is dead, slander’d to death by villains. 
That dare as well answer a man, indeed. 

As I dare take a serpent by the tongue ! 

Boys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milk-sops ! 

Leon, Brother Antony, — 

Ant, Hold you content; what man! I know 
them, yea. 

And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple : 
Scambling, outfacing, fashion-mong’ring boys. 

That lie, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, 
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words. 

How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst^ 
And this is all. 

Leon, But, brother Antony,— 

Ant, Come, ’tis no matter ; 

• • f 

Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. 

Pedro, Gentlemen both, we will not wake youi 
patience. 

My heart is sorry for your daughter’s death ; 

But, on my honour, she was charged with nothing ^ 
But what was true, and very full of proof. 

Leon, My lord, my lord, — • 


MUCH ADO 




Pedro* I will not hear you. 

Leon. No? come, brother, away: — I will be 
heard ; — 

Ant* And shall, 

Or some of us will smart for it. 

( Exeunt^ Leonato and Antonio, r. h.) 

Enter Benedick, l. h. 

Pedro* See, see ; here comes the man we went 
to seek. 

Claud* Now, signior ! what news? 

Bene, Good day, my lord. 

Pedro* Welcome, signior : You are almost come 
to part almost a fray. 

Claud* We had like to have had our two noses 
snapped olF, by two old men without teeth. 

Pedro* Leonato and his brother: what think’st 
thou ? Had we fought, I doubt, we should have 
been two young for them. 

Bene* In a false quarrel there is no true valour. 
I came to seek you both. 

Claud* We have been up and down to seek thee ; 
for we are high-proof melancholy, and would fain 
have it beaten away : Wilt thou use thy wit ? 

Bene* It is in my scabbard ; Shall I draw it ? 

Pedro* As I am an honest man, he looks pale : — 
Art thou sick or angry ? 

Claud. What ! courage, man ! what though care 
kill’d a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill 
care. 

Bene* Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if 
you charge it against me : — I pray you choose an- 
other subject. I don’t like it. 

Pedro* By this light, he changes more and more ? 
I think, he he angry indeed. ( Retires up the Stage. 

Claud* If he be, he knows how to turn his girdki 

Bene* Shall I speak a word in your ear ? 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


Cl 

Claud, Heaven bless me from a challenge ! 

Bene, You are a villain ; — I jest not : — I will make 
it good how you dare, with what you *dare, and when 
you dare : — Do me right, or I will protest your 
cowardice. You have kill’d a sweet lady, and her 
death shall fall heavy on you ; let me hear from 
you. 

Claud, Well, I will meet you, so I may have good 
cheer. 

Pedro, What, a feast? a feast? ( Advancing centre, J 

Claud, I’faith, I thank him ; he hath bid me, to a 
calf’s head; the which, if I do not carve most curi- 
ously, say my knife’s naught. 

Bene, Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily. 

Pedro, But when shall we set the savage bull’s 
horns on the sensible Benedick’s head ? 

Claud, Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells 
Benedick the married 7nan V 

Bene, Fare you well, boy ; you know my mind. 
("Going to L. H. and turns ) I will leave you now to 
your gossip-like humour: you break jests as brag- 
garts do their blades, which. Heaven be thanked, 
I hurt not. — My lord, f Takes off his hat,) for your 
it many courtesies, I thank you : I must discontinue 
|| your company: your brother,- the bastard, is fled 
Si from Messina : you have among you, kill’d a sweet 
arid innocent lady : for my lord Lack-beard, there, 
he and I shall meet ; and till then, peace be with 
1 him : — Let me hear from you. 

‘ ( Exit Benedick, l. H.j 

Pedro, He is in earnest. 

; Claud, In most profound earnest ; and, I’ll war- 
li Irant you, for the love of Beatrice. 

Pedro, And hath challenged thee ? 

Claud, Most sincerely. 

Pedro, What a pretty thing man is, when he goes 
in his doublet and hose, and leaves off* his wit. Did 
he not say, my brother was fled? 


62 


MUCH ADO 


Enter Dogberry, Verges, Conrade, Borachio, 
Seacoal, Oatcake, ajid the Watch, l. h. 

Pedro and Claudio stand r. h. 

Dogh, Come, you, sir ; if justice cannot tame you, 
she shall ne’er weigh more reasons in her ballance : 
nay, an you be a cursing hypocrite once, you must 
be looked to. 

Pedro, How now, two of my brother’s men 
bound ! Borachio one ! 

Claud, Hearken after their offence, my lord ! 

Pedro, Officers, what offence have these men 
done ? 

Dogb, Marry, sir, they have committed false re- 
port ; moreover, they have spoken untruths ; secon- 
darily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have 
bHied a lady ; thirdly they have verified unjust 
things ; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. 

Pedro, First, I ask thee what they have done ; 
thirdly, I ask thee what’s their offence ; sixth and 
lastly, why they are committed ; and to conclude, 
what you lay to their charge. 

Claud, Rightly reasoned, and in his own division. 

Pedro, Who have you offended, masters, that 
you are thus bound to your answer \ this learned 
constable is too cunning to be understood : what’s 
your offence ? 

Bora, Sweet Prince, let me go no further to mine 
answer : but do you hear me, and let this count 
kill me. I have deceived even your very eyes : 
what your wisdoms could not discover these shal- 
low fools have brought to light ; who, in the night, 
overheard me confessing to this man, how Don John 
your brother incensed me to slander the lady Hero; 
iiow you were brought into the orchard, and saw 
me court Margaret in Hero’s garments ; how you 
disgraced her, when you should marry her : my 
villainy they have upon record ; which I had rather 


\ 


I 


I 


ABOUT NOTHING. ^ 




Q3 


seal with my death, than repeat over to my shame ; 
the lady is dead upon mine and my master’s false 
accusation ; and, briefly, I desire nothing but the 
reward of a villain. 

Pedro, Runs not this' speech like iron through 
your blood ? 

Claud, I have drunk poison, whiles he utter’d it. 

Pedro, But did my brother set thee on to this ? 

Bora, Yea, and paid me richly for the practice 
of it. 

Pedro, He is composed and fram’d of treachery : ^ 
And fled he is upon this villainy. 

Claud, Sweet Hero now thy image doth appear, 
In the rare semblance that I lov’d it first. 

Dogb, Come, bring away the plaintiffs ; by this 
time our sexton hath reform’d signior Leonato of 
the matter : and masters do not forget to specify, 
when time and place shall serve, that I atn an ass. 

Verg, Here comes master signior Leonato and 
the sexton too. 


N 

Enter Leonato, r. h. with Sexton. 

Leon, Which is the villain? Let me see his eyes; 
That when I note another man like him, 

I may avoid him ; which of these is he ? 

Bora, If you would know your wronger, look on 
me. 

Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy breath 
hast kill’d 

Mine innocent child? 

Bora, Yea, even I alone. 

Leon, No, not so, villain; thou beliest thyself; 
Here stand a pair of honourable men, 

A third is fled, that had a hand in it : — 

I thank you Princes for my daughter’s death ; 

Rec ord it with your high and worthy deeds ; 

’Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 


64 


MUCH ADO 


Claud, I know not how to pray your patience^ 
Yet I must speak ; choose your revenge yourself ; 
Impose me to what penance your invention 
Cai) lay upon my sin : yet sinn’d I not. 

But in mistaking. 

Pedro, By my soul, nor I ; 

And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 

I would bend under any heavy weight 
That he’ll enjoin me to. 

Leon, I cannot bid you bid my daughter live, 

. That were impossible ; but I pray you both, 

Po ssess the people in Messina here 
How innocent she died; 

To-morrow morning come you to my house ; 

And since you could not be my son-in-law, 

Be yet my nephew : my brother hath a daughter. 
Almost a copy of my child that’s dead, 

And she alone, is heir to both of us ; 

Give her the right you should have given her cousin, 
And so dies my revenge. 

Claud, O, noble sir. 

Your over-^kindness doth wring tears from me ! 

I do embrace your offer : and dispose 
For henceforth of poor Claudio. 

Leon, To morrow then, I will expect your coming; 
To-night I take my leave . — f Exeunt,, Pedro and 
Claudio, r. This naughty man^ 

Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 

Who, I believe, was pack’d in all this wrong. 

Bora, No, by my soul, she was not : 

Nor knew, not what she did, when she spoke to me ; 
But always hath been just and virtuous, 

In any thing that I do know by her. 

Dogh, Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not un- 
der white and black) this plaintiff here, the offender, 
did call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembered 
in his punishment. 

Leon, I thank thee for thy care and honest painsa 


ABOUT NOTHING, 


85 


Dog'b, Your worship speaks like a most thankful 
and reverend youth ; and I praise H eaven for you, 
Leon, There’s for thy pains. Gives Money,) 

Dogb, Heaven save the foundation ! 

Leon, Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I 
thank thee. 

Dogb, I leave an arrant knave with your worship; 
which I beseech your worship, to correct yourself, 
for the example of others. Heaven keep your wor- 
ship ; I wish your worship well : Heaven restore 
you to health ; I humbly give you leave to depart ; 
and if a merry meeting may be wished. Heaven 
prphibit it. — Come, neighbour. 

( Exeunt^ Dogberry and Verges, l. h.) 
L.eon, Bring you these fellows on ; we’ll talk with 
Margaret, 

How her acquaintance grew with this lewd fellow. 

Exeunt,^ Leonato, Sexton, and Watch, ~r. h,) 


SCENE II . — A Hall in Leonato’s House* 
Enter Benedick and Margaret, l.^h. 

Bene, Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve 
well at my hands, by helping me to the speech of 
Beatrice. 

Alarg, Will you then write me a sonnet in praise 
of my beauty ? 

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no man 
living shall come over it ; for, in most comely truth, 
thou deservest it. 

Alarg, Why, shall I always keep below stairs ? 

Bene, Thy wit is as quick as .the grey-hound’s 
mouth, it catbhes. 

Marg, And yours, as blunt as the fencer’s foils,, 
which hit, but hurt not. 

f 2 


30 


MUCH ADO 


Bene, A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not 
hurt a woman ; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice. 

Marg, Well, I will call Beatrice to you. 

( Exit Margaret, r. h.) 

Bene, C Singing,) The God of love,, 

That sits above,, 

And knows me, and knows 77ie, 
Hoxu pitifid I deserve , — 

I mean, in singing ; but in loving, — Leander the 
good swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pan- 
ders, and a whole hook full of these quondam carpet 
mongers, whose names yet run smoothly in the even 
road of a blank verse, why, they were never so 
truly turned ov'er and over as my poor self, in love. 
Marry, I cannot show it in rhyme ; I have try’d ; I 
can find out no rhyme to lady but baby, an innocent 
rhyme : for scorn, horn, a hard rhyme ; for school, 
fool, a babbling rhyme ; very ominous endings : No, 
I was not born under a rhyming planet, for I cannot 
woo in festival terms. — 

Enter Beatrice, r. h. 

Sweet Beatrice, would’st thou come when I called 
thee ? 

Beat, Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. 

Bene, O, stay but till then 1’ ^ ^ 

Beat, Then, is spoken ; fare you well now : — and 
yet, ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which 
is, with knowing what hath passed between you and 
Claudio. 

Bene, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either 
I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him 
a coward. And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which 
of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me? 

Beat, For them altogether; which maintain’d so 
politic a state of evil, that they will not admit any 
good part to intermingle with them. But for which 
of my good parts did you first suffer love for me ? 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


Bene. Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer 
love, indeed, for I love thee against my will. 

Beat. In spite of your heart, I think ; alas ! poor 
heart ! If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for 
yours ; for I will never love that which my friend 
hates. 

Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. 

Beat. It appears not in this confession : there’s 
not one wise man among twenty, that will praise 
himself. 

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice : If a man 
do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, 
he shall live no longer in monument, than the bell 
rings, and the widow weeps. 

Beat. And how long is that, think you ? 

Bene. Why, an hour in clamour, and a quarter in 
rheum : Therefore it is most expedient for the wise 
fif Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment 
to the contrary) to be the trumpet of his own virtues, 
as I am to myself : So much for praising myself, 
fwho, I myself will bear witness, is praise-worthyj 
and now tell me, how doth your cousin ? 

Beat. Very ill. 

Bene. And how do you ? 

Beat. Verv ill too. 

* 

Bene. Serve Heaven, love me, and mend : here 
comes one in haste. 

Enter Ursula, r. h> 

Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle; it is 
proved, my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, 
the Prince and Claudio mightily abused ; and Don 
John is the author of all, who is fled and gone. 

( Exit.^ Ursula, r. n.j 

Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior ? 

Bene. I will live in thy eyes, die in thy lap,^ and 


68 


MUCH ADO 


be buried in thy heart ; and, moreover, I will go 
with thee to thy uncle’s. f Exeunt^ r. h.J 

■SBaaEasaBMBnRMHBb; 


SCENE III. — A Room in Leonato’s House. 

Enter Leonato, Hero, Friar, Antonio, Bene- 
dick, Ursula, and other Ladies u. e. r. h. 

Friar, Did not I tell you she was innocent ? 

Leon, So are the Prince and Claudio, who accus’d 
her. 

Upon the error that you heard debated : 

But Margaret was in some fault for this ; 

Although against her will, as it appears. 

Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well. 
Bene, And so am I, being else by faith enforc’d 
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. 

Leon. fTo Ladies,^ who are on r. H.j Well, daugh- 
ter, and you gentlewomen all. 

Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves ; 

And, when 1 send for you, come hither veil’d : 

The Prince and Claudio promis’d by this hour 
To visit me : ( Exit Hero and Ladies, r. h.^ 

You know your office, brother ; 

You must be father to your brother’s daughter. 

■ And give her to young Claudio. 

Ant, Which I will do with a confirm’d countenance. 
Bene, Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. 
Friar. To do what, signior ? 

Bene, To bind me, or undo me, one of them. — 
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior. 

Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. 

Leon, That eye my daughter lent her ; ’Tis most 
true. 

Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 
Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had from 
me,. 


\ 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


From Claudio, and the Prince; But what’s your will? 

Bene, Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 

But, for my will, my will is, your good will 
May stand with ours, this day to be conjoin’d] 

In the state of honourable marriage ; — 

In which, good Friar, I shall desire your help. 

Leon. My heart is with your liking. 

Friar. And my help. 

Enter Don Pedro, and Claudio, l. h. 

Leon. We here attend you ; Are you yet deter- 
mined 

To-day to marry with my brother’s daughter ? 
Claud, I’ll hold my mind, were she an Ethiop. 
Leon, Call her forth, brother, here’s the Friar 
ready f Exit Antonio, r. h.} 

Pedro. Good morrow, Benedick : Why, what’s 
the matter, 

That you have such a February face. 

So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness ? 

Bene. Here come the ladies. 

Enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Ursula, 
and other Ladies veiled,^ r. ii. 

Claud, Which is the lady I must seize upon ? 
Ant, This sani^is she, and I do give you her. 
Claud. Why, then she’s mine: Sweet, let me see 
your face. 

Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her 
hand before this Friar, and swear to marry her. 

Claud, Give me your hand before this holy Friar ; 
I am your husband, if you like of me. 

Hero. And when I liv’d, I was your other wife : 

( Unveiling.) 

And when you lov’d, you were my other husband.. 
Claud. Another Hero I 


MUCH ADO 



i7<?T0, Nothing certain er : 

One H ero died defil’d ; but I do live, 

And surely as I live, I am innocent. 

Pedro, The former Hero ! Hero that is dead ! 
Leon, She died, my lord, but whilst her slander 
liv’d. 

Friar, All this amazement can I qualify ; 

When, after that the holy rites are ended. 

I’ll tell you largely of fair Hero’s death: 

Mean time, let wonder seem familiar. 

And to the chapel let us presently. 

Bene, Soft and fair, Friar, — Which is Beatrice ? 
Beat, I answer to that name. What is vour will? 

V 

(B EATRicE and other Ladies unveil,) 
Bene, Do not you love me ? 

Beat, No, no more than reason. 

Bene, Why, then your uncle, and the Prince, and 
Claudio, 

Have been deceived ; for they swore you did. ; 

Beat, Do not you love me ? 

Bene, No, no more than reason. 

Beat, Why, then my cousin Margaret, and Ursu- 
la, are much deceived ; for they did swear, you did. 
Bene, They swore that you were almost sick for 
me. 

Beat, They swore that you were well-nigh dead 
for me.’ ^ , 

Bene. ’Tis no such matter :—~^hen, you do not 
love me ? 

Beat, No, truly, but in friendly recompense. 

Leon, Come, cousin, I am sure you love the gen- 
tleman. 

Claud, And I’ll be sworn upon ’t, that he loves her; 
For here ’s a paper, written ii) ]\is hand, 

A halting sonnet of his own pare brain. 

Fashion’d to Beatrice, r Gives the paper to Beat.J 


ABOUT NOTHING. 


Hero, And here’s another, 

Writ in my cousin’s hand, stolen from her pocket, 
Containing her affection unto Benedick. 

(Gives the paper to Benedick, and returns to r. h. 

of Claudio. J 

Bene, A miracle ! here’s our own hands against 
our hearts ! — Come, I will have thee ; but, by this 
light, I take thee for pity. 

Beat, I would not deny you ; — but, by this good 
day, I yield upon great persuasion ; and, partly, to 
save your life, for I was told you were in a con« 
sumption. 

Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. { Kissing her.) 

Pedro. How dost thou. Benedick the married man? 

Bene. I ’ll tell the what, Prince ; a college of wit- 
crackers cannot flout me out of my humour : Dost 
thou think, 1 care for a satire, or an epigram ? No: 
if a man will be beaten with brains, he shall wear 
nothing handsome about him : In brief, since I do 
purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose 
that the world can say against it ; and therefore ne- 
ver flout at me for what I have said against it ; 
for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion. — 
Claudio, I did think to have beaten thee ; but in 
that thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruis’d, 
and love my cousin. 

Claud. I had well hoped, thou would’st have de- 
nied Beatrice, that I flight have cudgell’d thee. 

Bene. Come, come, we are friends ; — Prince, thou 
art sad. 

C Goes to Prince.^ who has a handkerchief to his face.^ 
and is on l. h.J 

Pedro, Yes, I’ve got the tooth-ache. 

Bene, Got the tooth-ache ? Get thee a wife ; and 
all will be well. ( All laugh.) 

Nay laugh not, laugh not : — 

Your gibqs and mockeries I laugh to scorn ; 

No staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. 


Disposition of the Characters when the Curtain falls. 



JUST TUB1.ISHSU 


By A. JR. Poole, No 66, Chesnut Street. 


NEW NOVEL. 

THE HEARTS OF STEEL, an Irish Historical Tale of the 
last century, by the author of the Wilderness, O’Halloran, 
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The Proprietors have the pleasure of announcing that 

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Embellished with a Portrait of 

,^xMRS. DUFF; 

IN THE CHARACTER OF MARY. 


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CIS. Mr. LEE, (of N. Y.) Mrs. DARLEY. 
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